


it takes a village

by darkmagicmike



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, shrug emoji, this is wishfulfilment from... 2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-05 23:43:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15181925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkmagicmike/pseuds/darkmagicmike
Summary: it takes a village to raise a child, or at least four ghosts.A small moment between Qui-Gon Jinn and Rey because no one should grow up alone.





	it takes a village

**Author's Note:**

> This was wrote over two years ago, before well, anything to do with the Last Jedi.

“And now you cross these strands like this,” said Qui-Gon. He slowly twisted the strands of his hair. Next to him, Rey stared at his hands rapt with her tongue sticking out. She was fumbling some but the length of her braid was growing. “Good. I do believe you have this figured out, little one.” 

“Thanks, Master Jinn.” Rey beamed up at him. 

“Keep practicing and soon you will be as good as any padawan learner,” he teased. Rey gasped and fell silent, seeming to be on the edge of a great question. Qui-Gon shifted to face her, absentmindedly undoing the tail laying over his shoulder. 

“Do you,” began Rey slowly. She seemed to still be working up to voicing her question before it all came out in a rush, “doyouthinkicouldbeyourpadawan?”

Qui-Gon’s eyes drifted closed. He was fairly certain he knew what she asked but he asked her to repeat the question. Fairly certain only counted in causal observations and whether or not explosives were necessary. 

“Can I be your padawan learner, Master Qu-Gon?” asked Rey, again. Force, she sounded just like Obi-Wan had, cautious and hopeful and full of the belief that this a life or death choice. Nothing like Xanatos, who never had to ask, nor like Feemor. Not her, this little girl that had been left out in the desert for her protection. 

“No, little one,” he said, gently. Qui-Gon shifted off the crate and knelt in front of her, his hands hovering over her. “It is not my place.” 

“What about Master Ani or Ben?” she asked frowning. Her hands drifted up to the braid and began to unwind it. She focused intensely on the act of unwinding the braid, almost missing his next statement. 

“Little one, Rey, none of us will be your master,” began Qui-Gon. 

Rey paused, her hands still wrapped around her hair. She bolted off the crate, moving to the other end of the AT-AT. She tried to put as much distance between the two of them as possible. Her tiny hands fisted at her sides. 

“Why not?” she snapped. Hurt and confusion leaked out into the force around her. 

“Teaching, like that, is a task best left to the living. There's one out there who will teach you, Rey, and it will be so much more than anything we could do for you,” said Qui-Gon. He turned towards her, lowering himself further in his kneel. It was an old tradition, long forgotten. It was Qui-Gon Jinn, Master of the living force, long dead, asking for forgiveness. 

“Then why aren’t they here? Why are the only people who visit me ghosts?” asked Rey. She huffed and jerked her hair back up into the style her family, her real family gave her. 

“Because no one should be left alone.” Jedi are never meant to be alone, he concluded silently. Past or future Jedi. 

“I still don’t get it,” said Rey. She slowly calmed herself down, still hurting. 

“I know little one. Trust me? You know none of us would ever lead you wrong,” said Qui-Gon. He unfolded himself and stood slowly. He hesitated. Then he held his arms open, a silent offer of comfort. Rey approached slowly. They all remembered the last time she had tried to barrel into Obi-Wan, and accidentally barreled into the wall instead. 

“I’m sorry,” she muttered as the familiar tingle of energy washed over her, focusing on the points of contact between them. 

“You did nothing wrong,” said Qui-Gon. His young charge, their young charge, buried her face as best she could into his stomach. He grasped at the tenuous strains of the force, trying to extend the hug a little longer. “We should have told you much, much earlier.” 

Rey whined as he pulled away. Rubbing at her face, she looked up at him, “what are we gonna do now, Master Qui-Gon?” 

“How about..,” said Qui-Gon, pretending to think. He pulled at his beard, gazed off into the distance, very aware of the wise and stoic image he was trying to project. Rey pouted at him when he didn’t continue speaking. He glanced back down at her, smiling. “How about I tell you about the time that your Uncle Ben almost started a war because he wouldn’t eat a bug?”

Rey gasped, “No! Uncle Ben wouldn’t! Uncle Ben says he’d eat anything.” 

Qui-Gon roared laughter, shaking with it, “it took him a long time to get that way, little one.” 

“So...every time he tells me about how as a future Jedi I should,” Rey paused, drawing herself up a little. She continued, in a decent impression of a Coruscanti accent, “eat all my food as the Force provides all we need.” 

“He’s being tricky, little one.” 

Rey huffed, mumbling something about unfair uncles. She still shuffled over to her doll and plopped down next to it. 

“Well?” she asked, giving him an expectant look.


End file.
